


Tide

by seventeensteps



Category: Tenet (2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeensteps/pseuds/seventeensteps
Summary: He doesn't understand the way Neil looks at him sometimes, awestruck and trusting. It reminds him of the way his men used to look at him. And now they’re all dead.
Relationships: Neil/The Protagonist (Tenet)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 909
Collections: Good ones





	Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授翻】【Neil/Protagonist】Tide浪潮](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26357041) by [shuiyuejinghua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuiyuejinghua/pseuds/shuiyuejinghua)
  * Translation into ไทย available: [(แปล) Tide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419297) by [_DM_ (DarthMyrrh)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthMyrrh/pseuds/_DM_)



He doesn't really understand anything. The mission, the inverted stuff, his real reason for doing it. Even 'saving the world' sounds stale to his own ears after a couple of weeks.

He doesn’t understand why he cares about the world and all the strangers in it. His parents are long gone and he doesn’t have anyone. On paper, he’s technically dead. No ties, no relationships, no one to miss.

Still, he’s here, drinking expensive bourbon, contemplating the next step in their plan to stop the Third World War in an overly expensive suite with floor-to-ceiling glass walls, private pool, and pillowtop mattresses. Not the best choice, security-wise, but Neil insisted they get something nice out of the depth of his benefactor’s pocket.

He knows he’s not fooling anyone with the act since he’s already two glasses of bourbon in and starting to slouch a little on the disgustingly comfortable leather couch. He’d still like to pretend he’s working though. He doesn’t know what else to do, and it’s too early to go to bed.

Neil raises an eyebrow at him when he tries to pile some random documents together for the third time. All right.

“Just go to bed if you’re tired,” Neil offers.

He shakes his head. “It’s only 11 p.m.”

When he looks up from his laptop, Neil is watching him, a look on his face.

He doesn't understand the way Neil looks at him sometimes, awestruck and trusting. It reminds him of the way his men used to look at him. And now they’re all dead.

But maybe he's the one projecting that look onto Neil's face, as lonely as he is, to soothe the hollowness in his chest. Still, the way Neil expertly schools his face into his usual mischievous expression after he catches him looking back is a bit strange. Or maybe, he’s projecting that too. Wouldn’t put that past himself.

No matter what, he's not going to think too hard about something that might not be happening at all. He'd like to think he's too old for that now.

So really, to be absolutely honest, he is caught off guard when Neil pushes the lid of his laptop down, leans in, effectively trapping him against the back of the couch, and kisses him softly on the mouth.

After the initial shock wears off, as Neil is about to sit back and put some distance between them, he reciprocates the kiss.

They pull back to get some air, panting, and Neil just smirks.

 _Oh, no_ , he thinks. He also thought he was too old for this, but the way Neil’s teeth bite the skin just under his jaw is very distracting.

He lets himself be pushed onto the couch, and later thanks the expensive suite for its extensive amenities.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Neil comes up with an insane plan. Typically, it’s dangerous and crazy and brilliant. And later that day he shoves Neil against the door to their shared bedroom, and completely sucks all his remaining braincells out through his dick.

He’d like to think that Neil really appreciates the gesture, judging by how demanding the kisses are and how hard he rides him afterward.

He’s startled awake by his nightmare, and begins to panic in the darkness of his bedroom. The arms around his waist tighten, and his brain kicks it just in time before he starts thrashing and sends Neil off the bed again. Neil inhales and exhales slowly, deliberately, and he tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, eyes stung and feeling grateful.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep, but at least it comes to him this time.

  
  


* * *

  
  


He notices the way Kat’s eyes linger on them when they talk to each other, or when they’re helping one another with the wounds, or when they’re in the same room.

Her eyes are knowing and soft and incredibly sad, but she doesn’t comment on it. This thing they have that he’s too scared to name

One day, she walks in when they’re standing alone by the monitors, talking quietly, Neil’s hand around his. Kat spins around and walks out that same door without saying anything. Somehow, that reaction makes his face burn more than a real question ever can.

He knows though, that she doesn’t really need more explanation.

Neil tugs him by the hand to get his attention back. He looks down at their hands, long pale fingers rubbing a soothing circle onto his dark skin.

Something in his chest breaks a little.

“You were saying?” Neil tilts his head.

“Nothing important,” he says, shaking his head. “Let’s stay focused on the mission. It’s close.”

The hand around his tightens, and there’s a brief flash of anguish on the other man’s face, there and gone in an instant. If he didn't know the man, he'd think it was his own imagination. It all feels like taking a boat out into the ocean without sail or even a pair of oars.

The current will carry them away.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The night before going to Stalsk-12 finds them intertwining around one another, Neil fucking him with the kind of intensity he’s never experienced before.

He holds onto the strong arms around him, face in the ridiculously soft pillow, moaning and spreading his legs even more. Neil groans and mouths the skin where his neck and shoulder meet, and his rhythm falters, before slowing to a stop. He grunts, trying to push back, but Neil starts biting him and growls.

“Don’t want it to end,” Neil says, quiet and exposed.

He hums, and pushes Neil back. “I want to see your face.”

Neil pulls out carefully and lets him turn over, his eyes already telling him the things they’ve not been able to say. He pulls Neil in and kisses him, hoping it tells Neil as much.

When Neil enters him this time, it’s gentle and slow and deep, an illusion that this night will stretch on forever, future and past indistinguishable. Neil’s eyes are bright and focused and it’s almost like this is the only point in time that’s ever existed: them, in their bed, having and reclaiming everything that they can ever want.

Neil tries to make it last as long as he can, and he holds on, not daring to close his eyes lest this moment is washed away like words written in the sand. The waves are always crashing against them, pushing them further and further away from each other.

He’s surprised when his orgasm hits, sharp and strong and so powerful that it drags Neil along with him. They pant into the silent darkness all around them, a sense of dread and finality come crashing back at full force, making his throat tight.

The rest of that night, they hold onto each other, listening to the other’s heartbeat and trying not to fall asleep, not willing to let go just yet.

He kisses Neil again and again and again, taking and giving with the only way he knows how.

There’s something he needs to say, but eventually, he drifts off to a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Before Neil turns back and walks away, the man pulls him in and whispers something in his ears. The ache in his chest is still there, but this time, it’s accompanied by a small flicker of hope. When they see each other again, he hopes he can be half as good as Neil thinks he is.

And this time, he’ll be able to say it back.

  
  
  



End file.
